I really didn't know what to expect when this import oozed out of the envelope and slid ominously across my kitchen table, scowling at me with its jet-black slipcase depicting images of surreal and graphic brutality. A big fan of extreme Japanese cinema, I was both attracted and confused by the presentation, and wondered why this one had slipped under my radar. KICHIKU is, after all, a student film, albeit a fairly successful one, but had not received the kind of high-profile cult recognition enjoyed by its studio contemporaries like AUDITION or BATTLE ROYALE. Surprising, considering the cover copy's lurid promise of "excessive terror and bloody violence." Hmm...

Directed by Kazuyoshi Kumakiri for his senior film thesis at Osaka Art College, KICHIKU DAI ENKAI ("Banquet of the Brutes") is loosely divided into four acts (designated "Brute Parties" by large title cards), assaying the apocalyptic tragedy which befalls a group of young left-wing student activists during a period of social upheaval in Japan. No date is given, but a prologue montage containing archival footage would seem to position events in the early-to-mid-'70s.

From the very first scenes, things are apparently looking grim for the group, as their leader (Yuji Hashimoto, whom we barely glimpse on camera) has been jailed for an unspecified offense. During his incarceration, he gains the friendship of the stoic Fujuhara (Kentaro Ogiso), who is due for release soon, and asks that he join up with the group, in charge of which he had left his bitter girlfriend Masami(Sumiko Mikami).

As the focus quickly shifts to the group's run-down headquarters, it turns out that leaving Masami in charge was, well... a mistake. A really big one. Huge. Turns out Masami isn't quite as idealistic as her boyfriend; she doesn't seem to care what they're protesting, as long as she's in charge. Under her regime, anarchist attacks on government facilities have turned lethal, and two members of the rogue group - now more of a gang - have been linked to a cop's murder.

Masami maintains her grip on the confused bunch through a variety of tricks, including the offer of quick and dirty sex (her favorite tactic), and shrill, surreal displays of aggression (in a chilling scene, she twirls drunkenly about the room in a demon mask). This manipulation doesn't sit well at all with the surly Yamane (Tomohiro Zaizen), who leaves the group in a rage, and is beginning to trouble sensitive folk singer Kumatani (Shigeru Bokuda), who is nevertheless too timid to resist. The others see their pro tem leader's increasingly violent agenda as a license to unleash their own aggressive impulses, and fall neatly in line as she procures more lethal weapons for their next operation.

When it is learned that the leader has committed crude hara-kiri in his cell, the last fragments of genuine order among the group dissolve in a matter of minutes. Just as they are on the verge of disbanding, Yamane makes a surprise return, boasting of having joined a rival political group, and threatening to tell the police about the cop's murder. This act pushes Masami over the edge into pure, unbridled psychosis, and the others slavishly follow her into the abyss - even the stone-faced Fujihara, who seems to have attached a samurai-like devotion to the will of his deceased friend, even wielding a katana to enforce Masami's nightmarish code of retribution against the perceived traitors in their midst... although he may be following a different set of orders altogether.

It's this point where the film becomes something entirely different. What began as a kitchen-sink examination of misguided kids playing grown-up games, abruptly transforms into a blood-spurting, chunk-blowing splatterthon of epic proportions. The group's collapse into complete depravity is depicted in scene after graphic scene of savage beatings, sadistic tortures and grisly deaths, including two of the most horrifying shotgun killings seen depicted on film. The hand-held, documentary-style depiction of the events recalls similar atrocities in Ruggero Deodato's CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST, even as far as the camera lovingly lingers on the aftermath of bodily destruction, e.g. when a character gleefully plunges their hands into the pureed contents of another's skull, with accompanying exaggerated squishy sound effects.

Needless to say, this isn't a film for all tastes. Shit, I'm not sure WHO it was made for. On the one hand, it's a superbly shot, capably acted film, with a powerful subtext about Man's obsession with power, and the brittle illusion of social order that collapses at the slightest touch - a premise first explored in "Lord of the Flies." That would seem to ingratiate the film to the art-house crowd... but that's just the first hour. The remainder of the film unashamedly wallows hip-deep in rivers of blood, brains and intestines, almost sharing in the characters' childlike sadism and malicious glee. If it weren't taking itself so damn seriously, this portion of the film would be a gorehound's playground, as the plentiful effects are pretty good for such a low-budget production. As it is, though, those looking for social commentary will be appalled, whereas those seeking a Takeshi Miike-style blood festival will spend the first hour wondering whether they picked up the wrong movie.

This schizoid approach isn't helped by the fact that the characters' dementia suddenly goes from convincing to operatically over-the-top once the mayhem begins. What started as a fairly sensitive portrayal of misguided young men under the sexual thrall of a manipulative, egotistical woman suddenly descends into a stylized depiction of insanity and sadism on par with Pasolini's SALO, where the characters become symbolic effigies to be beaten, slashed and exploded in increasingly flamboyant ways. I found it increasingly difficult to believe that anyone, no matter how disillusioned with their lot in society, would follow this raving hell-bitch without question, turning on their closest friends in the most horrendous ways imaginable for no other reason than she told them to. Then again, people have been doing horrible things to each other for stupid reasons throughout history. (Don't even get me started on THAT one.) So I'll let that one slide. It's still a strangely disjointed concept.

This "Special Limited Collector's Edition" from Tokyo Shock (limited to 2500 discs) is not THAT fucking special, but I'll admit it is very classy. The slipcase packaging (the only part printed in English; the rest is in Dutch) states the film is letterboxed, but it was fullscreen on my monitor - which stands to reason, since the source print was straight 16mm, and therefore very little info would be lost on a standard TV. Speaking of 16mm, this was one of the cleanest and slickest prints of a student film I've seen, mostly free from grain (except in some night scenes -16mm is hard to light), with only a few scratches during the title cards. The cover images and blood-spattered animated menus illustrate how the distributors chose to emphasize the gory aspects of the film (which I find a bit crude, but I'm sure it helps sell copies). Aside from a few goofy translation errors (what's a "Making Off" feature?), it's a pretty slick package. The 30-minute behind-the-scenes docu is a must-see, not only because it demonstrates how most of the elaborate gore setpieces were brought off, but also that it depicts the crew and performers as a group of happy, laid-back, intelligent and well-adjusted young people - the polar opposite of their onscreen counterparts. It's a fun piece, and works well for scrubbing the horrific images out of your brain after the final credits have rolled.

Unfortunately, the entire experience is often severely hampered by horribly out-of-sync subtitles, which on more than one occasion appeared up to 5 seconds after the corresponding line of dialogue was finished. (Seriously. I timed it.) This proved highly irritating, particularly during intense exchanges between characters, and almost provoked me to turn the subs off and just try to keep up, but by a certain point, the emphasis had shifted from verbal interaction to physical abuse, and dialogue wasn't much of a factor anymore.

In spite of this setback, KICHIKU still makes for compelling viewing, and a must for devotees of Japanese cinema. At first glance it may seem like a nihilistic, mean-spirited exercise designed to provoke a visceral response. But after that fades away, you just might find yourself pondering the social horrors that inspired those violent images. Not that you'll feel any better. In fact, you might be depressed as hell. Shit, this doesn't sound like the positive review I intended anymore. Who knows why we watch this stuff? Why do we watch movies at all, if not to provoke a response? Goddamn it, this movie's infected my mind!

Please disregard the previous paragraph. It is the product of temporary dementia. I encourage you to watch this movie with a loved one. Then lend it to a friend, as a refreshing alternative to, say, anything starring Renee Zelweger. Oh yeah, and you need a PAL-compatible player to view it. So get one, ya cheap bastards.